


A Stranger From The Storm

by AnnieB



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-29 16:59:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12089382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnieB/pseuds/AnnieB
Summary: Two years after TSbyBS with Blair seemingly out of his life for good, Jim makes a surprising discovery.





	A Stranger From The Storm

Jim Ellison rolled over in bed and frowned at his alarm clock. It took several blurry seconds before he realized the noise that was sending shards of agony through his hung over head wasn’t his alarm clock but his phone. He fumbled for it, almost dropping it as he sat up then put it to his ear after checking the caller ID.

 

“This better be good, Simon,” he said. “I thought you said you weren’t going to let me drink so much at H’s birthday party.”

 

“Sorry to have to wake you, Jim.” Banks’ voice was serious and he didn’t even respond to Jim’s dig about the previous night’s drinking.

 

Jim grabbed the bottle of aspirin out of his bedside drawer and flipped off the cap, popping two into his mouth and swallowing them down with water from the glass on the nightstand. “I’m off duty today,” he reminded his captain.

 

“This isn’t a case for you,” Simon replied, “but I do need you to meet me at 1302 Mason Street.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Look, it might not even be him. I haven’t seen the guy myself but a call came in from some unis this morning. They were called out on a domestic disturbance call. They found a guy at the house they went to. Jim, they think it’s Blair.”

 

Jim felt as if his heart had literally leapt into his throat at the sound of Blair’s name. He shook his head. “No way, Simon. There’s no way Blair would have been living here in Cascade the past two years, right under our noses. Someone would have seen him. He hasn’t even contacted his mom in the past two years.” Despite his denials that it could be true Jim found himself on his feet, grabbing jeans and a tshirt and underwear from the dresser drawers then carrying them downstairs to the bathroom. “I’m just going to shower and get dressed. I’ll meet you there in an hour.”

 

~oOo~

 

By the time Jim got to the address Simon had given him, his heart was beating so fast he felt as if he’d just run a marathon. He parked his vehicle and climbed out then ran towards where he could see Simon waiting for him on the front lawn of the house. “Well?” he barked out as soon as he reached the captain. “Is it Blair?”

 

Simon put a restraining hand in the middle of Jim’s chest, forcing him to stay where he was. “It’s him,” he said gravely. Simon wiped a hand across his eyes and cleared his throat. “It’s Blair.” He held up his hand again as Jim tried to move around him. “You need to hear this first, Jim,” he said.

 

“All right.” Jim stopped but he couldn’t take his eyes off the front door of the house. Blair was behind that door. They hadn’t seen each other for over two years, hadn’t spoken. Jim had thought he was dead…

 

“When the uniforms got here they found three people in the house, all male. One man aged around fifty was dead from a single stab wound to the back. The knife was still buried in him up to the hilt. According to his neighbors he was something of a recluse-type named Charles Olsen. There was also a young boy. He tells us his name is Daniel Stockton and he’s 15 years old. And there was Blair. Blair’s hands were covered in blood. Daniel said he saw Blair kill the other man.”

 

“What?” Jim took his eyes away from the door and looked at Simon. “You’re kidding me? Blair killed him. Bullshit. The kid’s gotta be lying. Maybe he did it and he’s blaming Blair.”

 

“Jim, something else was happening here. Blair’s… Well, he’s not the Blair we remember. He’s incredibly thin, looks half-starved to tell the truth, he’s dirty and he’s got bruises and scars all over his body.” Simon took in a shaky breath. “He looks like an inmate of one of those prison camps we used to see pictures of in history class in school or… or a slave. He didn’t seem to remember me. You’ll need to go slow with him, man. He looks like a strong breeze could carry him away and he seems terrified. He’s sitting on the floor in there with his arm around the kid, hanging onto him for dear life and won’t let the paramedics near enough to check either of them out. Daniel looks scared out of his wits too. I told the cops not to go near either of them again until you got here. Go in and talk to him, convince him it’s safe to let the kid go and for them both to go to the hospital.”

 

Jim nodded. “I’ll do my best but do I have to remind you we didn’t exactly part on the best terms, Simon. I might be the last person he wants to see right now.”

 

Simon shook his head. “No matter what, this is still Blair. You’re his friend, his Sentinel, even if he doesn’t remember that. He’ll listen to you I’m sure of it. Just like when he got dusted with Golden, remember? If anyone can get through to him, it’ll be you.”

 

Jim nodded, took a deep breath then walked up the steps and into the house. He nodded a greeting at the uniformed officers standing in the hallway just outside what looked to be a bedroom. The body of a heavy set man lay on the floor facedown. Blood stained the back of his shirt and covered a good part of the floor around him. A knife was buried in his back. Jim swallowed hard then forced his focus onto the other two occupants of the room. Both looked up at him and Jim felt his heart miss a beat. He’d know those eyes anywhere. Blair was, as Simon had said, skinny and dirty, his hair matted and falling almost to his waist, his face stubbled with a couple days growth of beard but it was Blair. There was no mistaking it. He forced his eyes away and looked at the boy. “Hi, Daniel. My name is Jim. I’m a police officer and I’m here to help you and your friend, Blair.” He looked quickly at Blair as he said his name, hoping for some sign of recognition but there was none. “Is your friend named Blair?” Once again the quick look for a sign of acknowledgment, once again disappointed as Blair continued to stare back at Jim blankly.

 

Daniel, however, nodded. “He’s not really my friend though. I only met him a few days ago when the man brought me here. He told Blair he had to train me but when the man brought me into the bedroom Blair came after us. He was yelling, telling the man to let me go. That he had him and he didn’t need me too. The man pushed me down on the bed and when he climbed on top of me Blair stabbed him with the knife and pulled him off me onto the floor.” Tears were streaming down Daniel’s face now and his voice had crumbled into sobs as if he’d only just now realized what the man had planned for him. “He saved me. Please don’t lock him up.”

 

Jim shook his head firmly, peripherally aware now of Simon standing just behind him.

 

“We won’t lock him up,” Simon said, “but we need to get you both to a hospital and to notify your parents that you’ve been found.”

 

Jim extended a hand to Daniel and Daniel took it but he stayed where he was when Blair’s arm tightened around his shoulders.

 

“Blair,” Daniel said softly, “you can let me go now. They’re taking me home to my family. You can go home to your family now too.”

 

Blair shook his head, a tear tracking through the grime on his face. “No family,” he said, his voice rusty as if from long disuse. “All gone,” he added but he loosened his grip on Daniel’s shoulders and let the boy climb to his feet and walk across to Simon.

 

Jim moved forward cautiously, still on his haunches, not wanting to spook Blair. He laid a gentle hand on Blair’s arm. “Come on, Chief,” he said, “let’s get you out of here.”

 

An expression of something undefinable flickered across Blair’s face at the nickname. The reaction was gone as quickly as it came but Blair climbed to his feet with Jim’s help and let Jim usher him out of the house.

 

He balked a bit at the doors to the ambulance but Daniel was already in there, seated on the gurney, a blanket wrapped around his skinny shoulders and he smiled encouragingly at Blair and nodded and after a moment Blair climbed up the steps with Jim’s help and sat down next to Daniel. He flinched when the medic approached to take his observations, moreso when the man began to wrap a BP cuff around his arm but when the man spoke soothingly to him he held still until they were ready to leave.

 

“You can ride with us if you want, Detective,” the paramedic said. “There’s room seeing they’re both ambulatory.”

 

Jim turned to look at Simon who nodded his agreement. “Rafe will drive your car to the hospital, Jim. We’ll meet up with you there.”

 

Jim gave him a thumbs up then sat down on the jumpseat across from the gurney. He smiled at Blair who watched him warily but didn’t speak as the ambulance pulled out into the street and headed for the hospital.

 

At the hospital Daniel was taken into one curtained off cubicle and Blair and Jim into another. Jim could hear the boy asking where his parents were and the nurse replying that they were on their way. A few moments later a couple in their late thirties bustled into the cubicle and through a gap in the curtains, Jim could see them take Daniel into their arms. Daniel looked over at Jim and Blair and whispered something to his father who turned a mouthed a thank you at Jim. Jim nodded acknowledgment then turned his attention to the doctor who entered the cubicle and pulled the curtain shut behind him. Jim felt Blair stiffen and he put a soothing hand on his arm. “It’s okay. The doctor just wants to make sure you’re not injured. Let him look you over then I’ll take you home.” He injected a note of firmness into his voice and after a moment Blair nodded and submitted to the doctor’s examination though he didn’t respond to any of the man’s questions. Once the exam was done, the doctor patted Blair’s shoulder gently then motioned Jim out of the cubicle so they could talk out of Blair’s hearing.

 

“Stay here, Chief,” Jim said as Blair started to follow him out. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

 

Blair subsided back onto the bed obediently. Jim wondered a little at that. The old Blair would have demanded to know why he couldn’t hear the details of his own condition and treatment but this was, Jim reminded himself, far from the old Blair. Apart from those brief flashes of almost recognition at the house, there seemed nothing left of the Blair Jim had known before.

 

“Mr. Sandburg is basically uninjured though there are signs of old injuries,” the doctor began. “Bruising of varying ages, scars around his wrists and ankles that look like he may have been bound tightly at some time in the past, possibly for long periods. He also has marks on his back that are reminiscent of someone who’s been flogged.”

 

Jim felt bile rise up his throat and he forced the nausea down ruthlessly. He had to stay calm for Blair. “Go on,” he said as the doctor paused, “I’m all right.”

 

“He’s very underweight and a little dehydrated.” The doctor paused again. “I know some of the details of how he was found. Is he under arrest?”

 

Jim shook his head firmly. “No. From what we’ve been told and from what we saw at the crime scene it appears Mr. Sandburg was acting in defence of the boy at the scene. We’ll investigate it of course but he’ll be coming home with me, at least for now.” He smiled at the doctor’s surprised look. “Blair was my partner in Major Crime up till a couple of years ago-“

 

The doctor nodded. “Of course. I thought his name was familiar. He was at the center of something of a media storm over falsifying his doctoral thesis-“

 

“Blair didn’t falsify anything,” Jim said flatly, relieved to finally be able to say what he’d wanted to tell the world two years ago, before Blair had left.

 

“I see. Well, um,” the doctor seemed momentarily lost for words so Jim prompted him.

 

“So I can take him home now?” he asked.

 

“Yes, by all means. He may become more verbal in familiar safe surroundings. Try small amounts of plain food to begin with. Small frequent meals. His stomach has been deprived for some time and may take a little while to be able to digest anything rich or heavy. Soup, bland eggs, toast, that kind of thing. Water, weak tea, no coffee or alcohol. I’d suggest getting him to see a counselor who specializes in PTSD as soon as possible, perhaps even a psychologist. He may have trouble sleeping, have nightmares…”

 

Jim nodded. For Blair, nightmares would be nothing new. He’d had more than his share of them when he’d worked with Jim, after Lash, after the Golden after being shot by Quinn… Jim cut off his melancholy chain of thought. He’d been there for Blair then and he’d be there for him now. He’d get him through this and he’d get his friend back and then, once he was healthy and once he remembered why he’d left in the first place (and Jim had no doubt that he would eventually), if he wanted to leave again, Jim would let him go with his blessing this time and the handshake of a friend not with angry words and curses like the last time. Promise to himself made, he shook the doctor’s hand and turned to see Simon and Rafe entering the emergency department. “I’m taking him home,” he said as soon as they reached him, forestalling any possible argument from his captain but Simon just nodded his agreement.

 

“You want me to give you a hand with him tonight?” he asked but Jim shook his head, reaching out to take his car keys from Rafe with a smile of thanks.

 

“I’ll call you if there’s a problem and I’ll bring him into the station tomorrow afternoon to make a statement,” Jim replied. “Any word on the DB at the house - Olsen? Why Blair was there? How long he’d been there?”

 

Simon shook his head. “Not much info. Neighbors say the guy was quiet, kept to himself, rarely left the house. Forensics are searching the place now. You go home, concentrate on looking after Blair. I’ll call you if anything comes to light. You want me to call Naomi?”

 

Jim nodded. He wanted to focus on Blair. “If you don’t mind. You’ve got her cell number?”

 

“Yeah, she gave it to me last time she called to see if we’d heard from him a month or so ago.” Simon sighed. “Be nice to at least have some good news to tell her at last.”

 

“Yeah, look, see if she’ll hold off on coming for a day or so. I want to get him settled, and at least looking a bit more like his old self before she sees him,” Jim said.

 

“I’ll do my best.”

 

“It’s really Blair, huh?” Rafe asked, sneaking a peek through the gap in the curtains. “Man, he’s skin and bones, poor kid. Tell him hi from H and me, okay, Jim?”

 

“Sure, Rafe,” Jim said, not bothering to mention that Blair didn’t seem to remember anyone from his past at the moment. “Might be better if I get him out to the car on my own, sir,” he added, relieved when Simon nodded understandingly and urged Rafe ahead of him back out to the exit. “I’ll call you tonight,” he called over his shoulder.

 

Jim took in a shaky breath, squared his shoulders then headed back in to collect Blair. “Let’s get you cleaned up a little so I can take you home,” he said, making it more than a suggestion in case Blair balked but Blair just nodded as Jim got to work with warm water and towels from the bathroom to clean the blood of his hands. He’d have to make do with the dirty jeans and tshirt he was wearing till they got back to the loft and probably with a set of Jim’s trackpants and a sweater till Jim could buy him some new clothes but that was minor stuff, easily dealt with. Jim didn’t want to think about the harder stuff right now. All that really mattered was that Blair was coming home.

Jim unlocked the front door to the apartment then pushed it open, going through first and then standing back to usher Blair inside. He watched carefully as Blair stepped into the living room and stopped, not looking around, just staring straight ahead the same way he had in the hospital.

 

“Go sit down,” Jim said after a moment. He tossed his keys into the basket on the little table by the door. “I’ll make some tea. I don’t have any herbal stuff anymore but I’ve got plain old English Breakfast. You used to like that, didn’t you?” There was no answer but Jim didn’t really expect one. He was growing uncomfortably used to this quiet non-responsive version of his friend already. He shook off the unsettling feeling that gave him and busied himself with heating the kettle and making the tea, adding a spoonful of sugar and a healthy dollop of milk to Blair’s. He put the mugs onto a tray along with a plate of cookies he’d bought off his downstairs neighbor, Mrs. Edelstein’s granddaughter when she’d called round a few nights ago raising money for the Girl Scouts. “Rachel Edelstein keeps asking after you,” he said conversationally as he picked up the tray and carried it into the living room. “I keep telling her she’s way too good for you but-“ He stopped mid-sentence, almost dropping the tray in shock at the sight that greeted him.

 

Blair was kneeling on the floor, head down, arms behind him, wrists crossed at the small of his back.

 

Jim put the tray down and crossed over to him quickly, reaching down to grab his arm and try to pull him to his feet. “Blair, you can sit on the couch, buddy.”

 

Blair shook his head frantically, fighting Jim’s grip, his eyes suddenly huge in his too thin face, the pupils dilated in what Jim could only surmise was fear.

 

“Okay, okay,” Jim said, not wanting to panic him any more than he was already. “Stay there, Chief, it’s fine.” He waited till Blair had relaxed into his previous position then held the mug of tea out to him. “Take it, Blair,” he ordered when Blair didn’t respond, “you need to drink and eat.”

 

Hesitantly Blair looked up then settled down onto his haunches and took the mug from Jim’s hand and began to sip at it slowly.

 

Jim blew out a shaky breath then sat down on the floor opposite his friend and picked up his own cup. Blair looked momentarily surprised when Jim sat on the floor but he said nothing, just sipped at the hot drink, drinking it more eagerly after the first taste. He’d drained the cup in mere minutes, and Jim was glad he’d thought to put the milk in so Blair didn’t burn his tongue. “Guess you really are thirsty, hey, Chief?” he picked up a cookie and placed it in Blair’s unresistant hand. “Eat,” he said when Blair looked at him questioningly, inwardly rejoicing when Blair obeyed. “What happened to you, buddy?” Jim asked, not expecting an answer anymore. He handed over another cookie when Blair finished the first then stood up, wrinkling his nose. “You need a shower, Chief,” he said. He reached a hand down to Blair and he took it, rising to his feet then waiting as if for Jim to tell him what to do. Jim’s stomach lurched as his brain began to connect the dots : the marks from apparent floggings, the scars that showed he’d been bound hand and foot, the kneeling position on the floor, Blair’s lack of any voluntary action and the way he waited for Jim to tell him what to do. Had Blair been kept as some kind of slave? It seemed absurd in this day and age but the signs seemed unmistakable. Suddenly Jim remembered Daniel saying Olsen had been pushing him down onto the bed when Blair had come to his rescue. Had Blair been abused sexually as well? If he had been it was probably a moot point at this stage anyway. Olsen was dead. It wasn’t like Jim could arrest him for rape and he really didn’t want to put Blair through the stress of an examination for sexual abuse right now. Once he was sure Blair felt safe they’d deal with that, get him looked over by a caring, compassionate doctor, one of the medicos Jim knew through his work with rape victims.

 

“Come on, Chief,” he said, leading the way to the bathroom and snagging a couple of clean towels from the hamper just inside the door. 

 

Blair followed him passively, waiting just inside the door as Jim leaned in and turned the shower on over the bathtub.

 

“Do you need to go?” Jim asked, pointing to the toilet.

 

Blair nodded. Okay, so he was just saying he needed to pee but it was the first time he’d really answered a direct question and Jim felt a small glimmer of hope at the first tiny sign of connection. “Okay,” he said, lifting the lid and seat then stepping back out of the room to give Blair some privacy. He waited a few minutes but when he didn’t hear the toilet flush he peered back round the door. “You done?” he asked. Blair nodded again then stepped back and stood with his head bowed. Jim reached past to him to flush the toilet. Apparently that was a lost skill. Maybe he’d been using a bucket as a toilet, Jim mused. Looking at the condition he was in Jim wouldn’t be surprised.

 

“Take your clothes off and get in the shower,” he said firmly when Blair didn’t show any signs of moving.

 

Blair did as he was bidden and Jim handed him a washcloth that he’d squirted some shower gel onto. He tried to avert his eyes from Blair’s naked body but found his eyes drawn to the myriad marks of abuse it bore. Faded welts, bruises, scars, and fresh abrasions littered Blair’s skin. Jim forced back the tears that burned his eyes. Pity wouldn’t help Blair now.

 

Once Blair had washed Jim took the washcloth then wondered what to do about Blair’s hair. It reached almost to his waist, still in the trademark curls Jim remembered so well but Blair’s hair now was dirty and matted, lank and dull. Sighing, Jim mentally shrugged then stripped off his own clothes down to his underwear and climbed into the shower with his friend. Blair froze momentarily as he did so but then he docilely stayed in place and let Jim wash, rinse and condition his hair. It took 3 applications of shampoo and conditioner before Jim was satisfied. He was pleased to discover that there were still bottles of Blair’s favorite shampoo and conditioner on the top shelf of the shower caddy, obviously overlooked when Blair had stormed out of the loft with his belongings on that awful night two years before. Jim wondered as he inhaled the herbal scent of it now if it might provoke a remembrance in Blair but if it did Blair gave no sign of it. He stepped out onto the tile floor as directed to then allowed Jim to wrap his hair in a towel turban and dry his body with another towel.

 

“Wait here,” Jim said after he dried himself then hurried out to Blair’s old room, wondering if Blair might have left any of his old clothes behind when he left as well as the shampoo. Jim had refused to go into the room after that night, simply closing the door up tight against the memories of his friend but now he was relieved to find a pair of Blair’s old sweats and a tshirt and sweater in the bottom dresser drawer. He detoured quickly upstairs, stripped off his wet underwear and changed into clean clothes then took the sweats back to Blair and helped him put them on, trying not to notice how they swam on him now. They’d have to do for now anyway. He’d take Blair to a store on their way to the police station in the morning, buy him some things that fitted. He combed through and pulled Blair’s hair back into a pony tail securing it with a hair tie he found discarded in the bathroom cabinet. Maybe a trip to the hairdresser was in order soon as well, Jim mused, once he was sure Blair wouldn’t be too freaked out by the experience.

 

He led Blair back into the living room and switched on the TV, not really surprised now when Blair chose to kneel on the floor in front of the couch rather sitting on it as Jim invited him to do. Baby steps, Jim reminded himself. Take it slow. He picked up his cellphone then went out onto the balcony to call Simon. From there he could keep an eye on Blair while preventing Blair from hearing Jim talking about him. He wasn’t sure whether it would matter if he did but for now Jim wanted to err in all things on the side of caution.

 

“Hi, it’s me,” he said as Simon picked up on the other end.

 

Simon told him that he hadn’t been able to contact Naomi herself. She was apparently halfway up a mountain in Tibet somewhere (why didn’t Jim find that a surprise?) but the person who’d taken his call had assured him that she’d be given the good news about her son’s reappearance as soon as she came back down to the village. Jim couldn’t help being a little relieved at the news. He had no doubt that Naomi Sandburg loved her son but she was volatile and emotional and Jim didn’t think that was a good combination for Blair right now. He finished the call by assuring Simon they’d be in the next morning as soon as he’d outfitted Blair with some clothes and then disconnected the call and went back into the living room, sitting down on the couch near where Blair was kneeling. The game that was on at least helped to pass the time and the next time Jim looked at his watch it was almost 6 PM.

 

He went into the kitchen and scouted through the fridge and cupboards for food for dinner, finally deciding on canned chicken soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. That should be a bland enough meal to fill Blair’s stomach without overtaxing it. He carried it through to the living room and placed everything on the dining room table. It took some coaxing and some physical maneuvering by Jim but Blair finally sat across the dining table from him and ate the food. When he scraped the bottom of the bowl over and over with his spoon, Jim got the message and quickly got up and poured him another bowlful of soup. Jim watched him as he ate it then almost stood up and cheered when Blair canted a shy look up at him and the tiniest smile twitched across his lips. “Good, huh?”

 

Blair nodded and allowed the tiny smile to upturn his mouth again for a scant second then stood up quickly from the chair and began collecting the dishes.

 

“Whoa, that’s okay. They can wait till the morning,” Jim said, waylaying him with a gentle hand on his arm. Blair had yawned several times during dinner and Jim wanted to get him to go to bed for a good night’s rest. God knew he looked like he needed it.

 

Blair allowed Jim to usher him into the small bedroom that had once been his but balked for a moment when Jim pulled back the bed covers and told him to lie down. Finally after Jim had pretty much ordered him to, he climbed into the bed and let Jim pull the covers up over his shoulders.

 

“Good night, Chief,” Jim said softly. He went back out to the kitchen and pulled a beer from the fridge. He’d allow himself just one. He wanted to be on alert in case Blair had a nightmare. Jim had the feeling that whatever had happened to Blair over the past two years, there was fodder aplenty for nightmares. He drank the beer then locked the front door and set the deadbolt, taking the keys with him when he went upstairs to bed himself a couple of hours later. He lay in bed and read for a while, his senses alert to any sound from downstairs. Finally hearing nothing untoward he allowed himself to sleep as well.

The crash from downstairs had Jim out of bed and on his feet in seconds. Instinctively he grabbed for the gun in the nightstand drawer next to his bed. He kept the safety on and hurried down the stairs. It was only as he reached the bottom step and saw Blair cowering in a corner of the kitchen, babbling frantically that Jim’s memory kicked in and reminded him that Blair was home. Blair’s eyes were huge in his sheet-white face and Jim cursed as he realized he still had the gun in his hand. He put it down on the coffee table as he passed then hurried across to crouch down in front of Blair.

 

“What’s wrong?” he asked , putting out a hand then withdrawing it quickly as Blair flinched, one arm going up to cover his head as he backed even further into the corner, as if he were trying to climb inside the plaster wall itself. Jim sat back on his heels and looked around, trying to deduce the reason for Blair’s fear. There was a bowl on the floor, shattered into several pieces and Jim guessed that had been the cause for the crash he’d heard. “You broke the dish?” he asked.

 

“Sorrysorrysorry,” Blair was muttering. “Sorry, Master. Sorrysorrysorry.” His words slurred together as tears rolled unchecked down his pale cheeks, his lips trembling with unadulterated fear.

 

“Shit,” Jim whispered. “Oh Chief, what did he do to you?” This time Jim couldn’t help tears overflowing his own eyes and for now he let them come, wiping roughly at his face with the back of a shaking hand. Finally he took a deep breath and steadied himself. “Well, we can’t both sit here all day blubbering over a broken bowl, now can we?” he asked rhetorically. “How about I help you clean this up?” He stood up and went over to the cupboard beneath the sink and pulled out the dustpan and brush. “Okay,” Jim said, looking over at Blair, “let’s do it together.”

 

Blair shot him a surprised look but it had the effect of stopping the string of apologies and the tears.

 

Jim knelt down and put the dustpan near the broken bowl then held the brush out to Blair. “Can you sweep this up for me, Chief?”

 

Blair nodded and scurried over still on his knees. He took the brush from Jim and slowly and carefully swept up every broken piece. Jim pointed to the trash can then took the dustpan from him and put it away. “Good job,” he said. “What are you doing down here so early anyway?” he asked as

 

he stood up. He stretched to unkink his back then held a hand down to Blair. “Stand up, buddy. I’m not as young as I used to be and I want to be able to see your face when I talk to you, okay?”

 

Blair slowly reached out and grasped Jim’s hand and let Jim lever him to his feet.

 

“I need you to speak to me when I ask you a question from now on, Blair, okay?” Jim said, inserting that tone of authority into his voice that had so far proved most effective in getting through to his friend. He hadn’t missed Blair calling him “Master” earlier either and as horrified as he was at the thought that Blair considered that Jim now owned him, he thought that at least it might provide a way to get some answers from him. “Okay, Blair?” he prompted when Blair didn’t reply.

 

“Okay, Ma-“

 

Jim put up his hand before Blair could say the word. “You can call me Jim,” he said firmly. “All right?”

 

“Okay, Jim,” Blair replied. It sounded kind of robotic but inside Jim cheered. Two way communication had been achieved at least.

 

“Thanks for coming to clean up the kitchen,” Jim said, giving Blair’s shoulder a gentle pat. “I’d hoped for a sleep in but seeing as we’re both up how about I make coffee and breakfast for us. We need to go to the station. I need you to make a statement and tell us what happened at that house, how you ended up there and why you killed Olsen.”

 

Blair flinched at the name but Jim went on. “I’m sorry, Chief, I’m sure there are lots of bad memories but we need to get to the bottom of it all so you can put it behind you. I’ll be right with you every step of the way, I promise. Can you do this? Talk to Simon, tell us what happened?”

 

Blair nodded and looked down. He was visibly trembling and Jim pulled him into a hug, holding him close. “You’re gonna be fine, Blair. Soon this will just be something that happened to you. It’ll be in the past. I’m going to help you get there.”

 

Blair stood passively within Jim’s embrace but after a moment Jim felt him relax. He held him a minute more then pushed him gently back. “How about you set the table while I cook breakfast?””

 

Blair nodded.

 

“Yes, Jim,” Jim prompted, grinning when Blair shot him that shy, sweet smile and parroted, “Yes, Jim.”

 

“Now we’re making progress,” Jim said, heading for the coffeemaker.

 

The phone rang and Jim went across and scooped it up. It was Simon. “How’s the kid?” Simon asked.

 

“Better,” Jim said. “Well, we’re making some headway,” he amended.

 

“You really need to bring him in today like you said,” Simon said. “I don’t want to push him but I’ve got the DA breathing down my neck-“

 

“Whoa! You better not be telling me he’s planning on arresting Blair for killing that creep!” Jim was furious and out of the corner of his eye he saw Blair jump then back away from the table to the safety of the corner where Jim had found him earlier. “Hang on, Simon.” He put the phone down and went across to Blair. “I’m sorry I scared you. It’s all right, Chief. Just finish setting the table and I’ll be with you in a minute, all right?”

 

Blair’s eyes were still wide with fear but he nodded shakily then said, “Okay, Jim.”

 

Jim waited till he went back to get the plates from the cupboard then went back to the phone. “Well? Is he?” he asked.

 

“No,” Simon said firmly. “You know I’d never allow that to happen. But Blair needs to make that statement to corroborate the boy’s evidence then the DA is prepared to probably write it off as justifiable homicide in the defense of a minor person. Okay?” he prompted when Jim didn’t say anything.

 

Jim sighed. “Yeah. I don’t know how much talking he’ll do at this stage though. I’ve only just got him to say a couple of words to me and then it’s mostly when I prompt him to.”

 

“But he’s talking, right? That’s great, Jim. He’ll be fine. You can stay with him and I’ll make sure the DA knows he’ll have to back off the minute Blair gets upset or shows any sign of backing off. Deal?”

 

“Deal. One more thing. I know the guys are gonna be happy to see him but maybe ask them to keep their distance just for now, please. Like it or not, Blair doesn’t remember us or if he does the memories are buried deep under whatever hell that asshole put him through. Just ask them to be patient for now.”

 

“Okay. What time you coming in?”

 

“We’re having breakfast now then I need to get him some clothes, maybe take him to get his hair cut.” Jim thought back to Blair’s panic earlier and added, “No, maybe we’ll leave the hair for now but he definitely needs clothes so give me till say 11, all right?”

 

“No problem. Jim, Blair’s lucky to have you here for him.”

 

“Thanks but all I can think of is that it was me being such a prick to him two years ago that might have put him right in Olsen’s path. See you at eleven, Simon.” He hung up the phone then turned and gave Blair a thumbs up and a broad grin. “Good job, Chief. Let’s eat.”

 

~oOo~

 

Jim kept a firm hold of Blair’s arm as they entered the mall and made their way to Walmart. He made quick work of picking out a couple packs of underwear and socks, three pairs of trackpants and some t-shirts and a couple of sweaters. The weather was seasonally warm at the moment so Jim figured Blair wouldn’t need to resort back to the layers he’d been accustomed to wearing in Cascade’s colder months. They got sneakers as well then Jim steered the shopping kart and Blair over to the checkout. Blair kept his head bowed the whole time and didn’t look up even when the checkout girl, apparently taking Jim’s hold on Blair’s arm for the arm linking of a couple, said, “You guys are so cute together.” She rattled on about her brother being gay and how much she adored his boyfriend and how it was about time the government let gay couples get married like everyone else. Jim didn’t bother apprising her of the truth, just nodded in appropriate places and paid with his credit card then ushered Blair ahead of him and out to the car. He was grateful for the fact that the store had been pretty empty this time of day so Blair hadn’t seemed upset at all. Jim got him into the passenger seat and helped him buckle up then piled the packages on his lap and went around to the driver’s door. “We’ll get you changed in the locker room at the PD,” he said. There were cubicles there and he could get Blair looking presentable before they met up with the DA. Blair had let Jim help him shave before they’d left the loft though he’d gone pale and shuddered when Jim pulled out the razor. Jim had kept his voice firm and matter of fact as he went to work with soap and blade and by the end of it Blair was looking almost like his old self.

 

They made it into the PD with just a handful of curious looks from the cops in the locker room. Jim got Blair changed into his new clothes then stood back and gave him an appraising once over. “Looking good, Sandburg,” he said. “You ready to do this?”

 

Blair nodded and Jim led him out the door and into the elevator. Fortunately they got an express ride to Major Crime and then Jim was ushering Blair into the bullpen. Rafe and Henri Brown looked up as they walked in but Simon had been as good as his word and they both sketched a quick wave in Jim’s direction then bent their heads over the files they were working on. Joel Taggart was standing by the coffee machine with Rhonda, Simon’s secretary. They both smiled and nodded. Jim knew how much Joel must have wanted to grab Blair up in a bear hug. He and Blair had become particularly close during Blair’s time as Jim’s partner but Joel was a sensitive, intelligent man and he held his ground and turned back to finish making his coffee. Simon was standing at the door to his office and Jim could see DA Carter in there behind him. He led Blair over to his desk and got him sitting down. “Sit here and wait till I come back to get you,” he said firmly. He wanted to test the DA out, make sure there were no hidden surprises waiting for Blair inside Simon’s office.

 

“Okay, Jim,” Blair said equably.

 

Jim left him there and went over to join Simon.

 

“Wow,” Simon said, “I’m not sure whether to be more impressed by the fact that you’ve actually got him talking already or by the fact that he’s obeying you. Remember all the trouble you used to have getting Sandburg to wait in the truck at a crime scene?”

 

“Yeah, I do,” Jim replied, “and right now I’d give anything to have that stubborn little shit back.”

 

“Me too.” Simon patted his shoulder. “I assume you want to read Carter the riot act before you bring Blair in.”

 

“Yep,” Jim said, “you got that right.” He gave Blair a last reassuring look then went into the office with Simon.

~oOo~  
“You know DA Carter?” Simon said as he closed the door behind them.

 

“Of course.” Jim leaned across and shook the man’s hand. “How are you, Deke? How’s Melanie and the kids?”

 

“Miranda’s still beautiful and the kids are growing like weeds,” Deke Carter said. “You should come for a barbecue again sometime, Jim. They’d love to see you.”

 

Jim nodded. “As soon as this stuff with Blair is all settled then we’ll do just that.”

 

“Look, Jim,” Carter said, standing up and going across to refill his coffee mug from the jusg Simon held out for him, “I can feel you bristling already and I haven’t even asked Sandburg question one yet.”

 

“Sorry,” Jim said, even though he really wasn’t, “Blair’s vulnerable right now. I’ve made a little headway getting him back. I just don’t want anything that happens here today jeopardizing that.”

 

“Understood.” Carter sipped at his coffee then set the mug down on the table. “Jim, you know me. I never met Blair but I’ve heard enough about him since I came to Cascade to know that he was a highly thought of member of this department. You have my word I won’t push him harder than I have to. As long as he’s honest about what happened he’s got nothing to fear from me or my department. Olsen was a bottom feeder and I don’t think there’ll be many people mourning his loss. However, I’m the DA and we have to make sure that justice is seen to be done, even for the Olsens of this world. Hey, if it was up to me I’d be giving the guy a medal for not only pushing Olsen off this mortal coil but for saving that kid’s life. Let me just do my job, Jim, and then you can take him home and help him get himself and his life back together.”

 

“Fair enough,” Jim said. Deke Carter was a good man, kind and honest. Jim thought… hoped he could trust him with his fragile friend. He looked out the window at Blair who sat where Jim had left him, head bowed, gaze on the floor. If Blair had to go through this in order to come out the other side whole again then Jim would sit right next to him and help him do it. “I can’t promise much yet,” he went on. “He’s just barely talking to me and that’s pretty much only when I order him to.” He winced a little at the word order but it was true after all.

 

“We’ll take whatever we can get for now, Jim,” Deke said. “If we need to do this over several sessions so be it but let’s get as much as we can today so hopefully he doesn’t have to relive it too many times.”

 

“Okay,” Jim agreed. “I’ll bring him in.”

 

~oOo~

 

“Sit down on the chair, Blair,” Jim said, taking Blair by the arm and leading him into Simon’s office. He waited till Blair was settled then crouched down in front of him and put his hands on Blair’s knees. “Look at me, Chief,” he said, waiting till Blair raised his head before going on. “You remember Simon?”

 

Blair nodded slowly.

 

“Good. This other man is Deke Carter. He’s the district attorney for Cascade and he needs to ask you about what happened at the house and with Olsen.”

 

Blair flinched at the name and Jim squeezed his leg gently. “He’s dead, Blair. You have nothing to fear from him anymore. But we need to hear from you what he did to you, how you ended up there with him, all right? Will you talk to us?”

 

Blair nodded again.

 

“Good. You need to talk aloud so we can all hear you. I’m going to stay here with you though.” Jim settled himself into the chair at Blair’s side and placed a supportive arm around his shoulders. “Okay,” he said to Deke. “Let’s get started.”

 

They went through the preliminaries of introducing themselves, in to the tape recorder microphone, Blair finally repeating his name after Jim said it for him twice. Simon noted the time then sat down behind his desk and nodded to the DA. “Let’s get started,” he said.

 

“Blair, can you tell me how you came to know Charles Olsen?” Carter asked.

 

Blair looked down at the desk and didn’t speak but Jim could feel a faint shiver tremble through his body. He opened up his hearing and focused it on Blair’s racing heartbeat. “It’s okay, Chief,” he murmured, “you’re safe here. I promise you.”

 

Blair inhaled shakily and his fingers turned whitetipped where they gripped the sides of the chair.

 

“Relax, buddy,” Jim whispered. “Just take the time to breathe for a minute.” Unconsciously his voice took on the cadence of the “guide-voice” Blair had so long ago used on him to help Jim use his senses more effectively. It felt oddly soothing to Jim and after a moment he felt Blair relax a little, the trembling subsiding. “Good, that’s good,” Jim went on. “Answer the question now.” He injected more firmness into his voice this time and Blair sat up and began to speak in a shaky voice.

 

“He’s my master. He owns me. I have to do whatever he tells me. That’s my job. That’s all I need to do. Just that. Nothing else.” Blair’s words sped up, his breath coming in pants now. Jim could hear his heartbeat increasing until it was racing along with his words.

 

Jim shot a look over at Carter, who was frowning, leaning forward across the table to Blair, telling him to slow down.

 

Blair didn’t though. The words spilled out in an uncontrolled, barely decipherable rush. Jim grabbed for his hand, grasped it tightly and pulled him sideways into a one armed hug, whispering into his ear. “It’s okay, Chief. Slow down. It’s all right. Calm down.”

 

Blair twisted free of Jim’s arms and pushed himself away from the table, landing on his backside then scurrying underneath the table where he sat, the words still spilling out as he grasped his arms around his knees and began to rock.

 

“Shit.” Simon was on his feet, his eyes filled with pain and not a little guilt. “Jim, can you calm him down?”

 

Carter’s face was white. “I’m sorry,” he said over the top of Blair’s constant repetitions. “I had no idea he’d react like this.”

 

“I should have known better than to bring him here,” Jim said, angry at himself more than at anyone else. “It’s too soon. He hasn’t even had any counseling yet. I thought because he was talking to me he was ready for this. I should have known why he was responding to me.”

 

“Why?” Carter asked. “What’s the difference between you asking him questions and me?” He sounded honestly curious.

 

“Because he thinks I own him now,” Jim spat out, anger at Olsen driving the words vehemently from him. His stomach roiled at the thought and for a moment he thought he might be sick. He placed his hands on the table top and focused on his breathing, forcing himself to bring his emotions under control. The last thing Blair needed right now was to hear any anger in Jim’s voice, regardless of the fact that anger wasn’t aimed at him. It took several long moments but eventually Jim pulled in a cleansing breath then exhaled it slowly and straightened up. “Give me a minute with him alone, please,” he said.

 

Simon nodded and turned to usher Carter toward the door.

 

“Jim, I’ll do my best to hold this off as long as he needs but in view of the fact we have no other evidence to prove Blair killed Olsen in self defence we need to get him to talk to us as soon as possible,” Carter said softly.

 

“You have Daniel’s statement,” Jim reminded him.

 

“Daniel told us what Blair did but he had no way of knowing Blair’s motivation,” Carter replied. He swallowed then added hesitantly, “For all we know, Blair killed Olsen because he was jealous he’d brought home someone else-“

 

“You’re kidding?” Simon sounded as outraged as Jim felt but Jim knew the man was right, much as he hated to admit it.

 

“Give me a week with him, two if you can swing it,” Jim said. “Let me help him remember his life before Olsen. Help him want to come back to it? Please.”

 

Carter nodded. “I have a boy named Ben. He’s autistic. Sometimes he can’t tell us what he wants or needs and he lashes out in frustration. We still love him though. We work hard to find ways to help him connect with us. Do that for Blair, Jim. If anyone can do it you can.”

 

Simon nodded agreement. “I’ll take you off the roster effective immediately. Do you want to stay here or would you prefer to take him out of Cascade? You could use my cabin. He’s been there lots of times. Might revive some good memories for him.”

 

“Yeah, that’d be good, Simon, thanks. I might need you to run interference with his mom for now.” Jim crouched down and reached out to place a hand on Blair’s knee. Blair was quiet now but he was still rocking back and forth. “Come on, Chief, let’s get you home.” It took a few minutes but eventually Blair grasped Jim’s hand and crawled out from his hiding place and let Jim lead him out of the office.

 

Rafe, Henri and Joel gave him a thumbs up on their way out and Jim spared them a quick smile of thanks in return. Blair might not know it yet but one day he’d realize just how much the friendship of these men meant.

 

At home Jim let Blair potter round the loft exploring while he tried to sort out what they needed to make this getaway work. Blair seemed fascinated by the photos Jim kept on the shelf, picking them and gazing at them for long periods as if trying to remember who they were. Jim went across and picked up the one of the whole MC gang taken at a Christmas party just before Blair left. He pointed each person out in turn, adding a small story to describe them as he went, hoping something might click and spark a remembrance in Blair. Blair nodded each time but showed no sign of recognition till Jim pointed out Blair in the photo, a wide grin on his face as Jim pulled him into a noogie. “That’s you and me,” he said. “You used to hate me doing that but it always made you laugh anyway.”

 

Blair put out a finger and traced it over the image of his face. “Before,” he said in a voice so sad it made Jim’s heart ache.

 

“Yeah, before,” he replied, “but we’re going to get you back, Blair. I promise.”

 

They were such tiny steps they were making but each one gave Jim hope that he’d be able to fulfill his promise to Blair. He switched on the TV and got Blair settled watching a National Geographic documentary with a sandwich and some juice then went over to the phone and called an old friend.

 

“Hey, Melanie,” he said as the phone was answered, “I need some advice if you don’t mind doing a pro bono phone consult.” Meanie Carver was a rape crisis counselor whom Jim had dated briefly back in his Vice days. He filled her in on what had happened to Blair and then asked whether he was doing the right thing taking Blair away. “Or should I keep him here in Cascade and get him into counseling as soon as possible?” he finished by asking.

 

“I can’t say for sure without knowing him or seeing him but honestly Jim, taking him away and letting him distress in a place with happier memories could really be a good thing. Then, if you can make some headway there or even if you don’t, bring him back and I’ll get you into see a good friend of mine who specializes in domestic slavery cases.”

 

“You mean it’s common enough that there people who specialize in it?” Jim asked, a bitter taste at the back of his throat at the thought.

 

“Sadly yes,” Melanie said. “Horrifyingly, some people have been known to turn their own family members, parents or wives or children into slaves. Others kidnap women or men off the street. There have been several cases in the national news over the past year.”

 

“Okay, thanks, Mel. I’ll call you when we get back,” Jim said, hanging up.

 

He needed to get more clothes for Blair as well as food for their stay but he really didn’t want to drag Blair through the stores again. He put in a call to Joel Taggert. Even though Blair didn’t remember him Joel would be the best person to stay with Blair while Jim went out. Joel would just be here for him, he’d know instinctively not to pressure him with questions. Joel was thrilled at the idea of seeing Blair again and promised he’d be there within the hour.

 

Blair looked up as the knock on the door came. Jim could see the desire for flight in his eyes. He called out to Joel to wait then walked across and kneeled down in front of Blair. “This is just our friend, Joel,” he said. “I need to go out and get some things so I’ve asked Joel to stay here with you.”

 

Blair stood up, wriggling out from under Jim’s hand but Jim stood up as well and stopped him moving away. “You were fine at the PD this morning,” he said, honestly confused, “and at the store. Why are you freaking out now?” The answer hit him almost instantaneously. “Because I was there with you,” he added.

 

Blair nodded. “Stay,” he whispered, his shaky voice revealing just how much it was costing him to even make a request of Jim.

 

Jim sighed then patted him on the shoulder. “How about you and Joel come with me?” he said, walking over to let Joel in. He smiled as he shook Joel’s hand and then introduced him to Blair.

 

“Hey, Blair,” Joel said in his kind voice, “I’m very glad to see you.”

 

“Blair doesn’t want to stay here,” Jim said.

 

“Ah,” Joel said, “well, maybe we could come with you and have an icecream cone while you get your shopping done.”

 

“Sounds like a plan,” Jim agreed. “Let’s hit the road, Chief.”

 

And that’s what they’d done. Blair had seemed okay about sitting with Joel at a table just outside the store while Jim did their shopping. By the time he came back with a kart piled high with clothes and provisions Blair was actually smiling at something Joel had said.

 

“What’s your secret?” Jim asked as they went back to the car. It took me a day and night to get a smile out of him.”

 

“I was telling him about when Rafe chased that guy through the carwash. Remember?” Joel grinned broadly. “It’s a pretty funny story. It’d get a smile out of anyone.”

 

Jim could have kissed him for his patience and insight.

 

They dropped Joel back at his car then went upstairs to pack. Blair didn’t ask where they were going, just did everything Jim asked him to without question as always. Jim could only hope that their time away from Cascade would bring about the changes he so desperately wanted to see.

~oOo~

Even the drive to the cabin hadn’t aroused much curiosity out of Blair, or conversation for that matter. By the time they were halfway there Jim found himself missing the voluble old Blair who never seemed to shut up when they made this trip. There were times when Jim had snapped at him to be quiet for a while so he could concentrate on driving in those days. Now he’d give just about anything to have a reason to tell Blair to shut up. They stopped at a diner along the way and Jim saw the waitress raise an eyebrow as Blair waited to eat till Jim told him to. Jim wasn’t sure what to do about that. He’d actually wondered if he could maybe simply order Blair to eat whenever there was food in front of him without waiting for Jim to tell him to but that presented its own problem. What if Blair then felt he had to eat everything on his plate regardless of whether he liked or wanted it. Jim sighed and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as they pulled away from the diner and got back on the road. He was trying to be patient but even after this short time of getting Blair back and despite the breakthroughs they’d had there were times when he couldn’t stop the doubts from creeping in.

 

Jim turned on the radio when they got back in the car. He needed some noise to fill the empty silence. Blair sat staring stolidly out of the window, not registering any interest when what Jim knew to be one of his favorite songs came on. Jim decided to take advantage while he could though. After all, the whole point of this trip was to stimulate Blair’s memory, bring it back online so to speak, much the way Blair had explained about Jim’s senses coming back online all those years ago when they’d first met. “You really liked this song, do you remember, Chief? Used to drive me nuts playing it over and over when it first hit the charts.”

 

Blair turned his head to look at him and he smiled a little. Was that recognition Jim saw or just Blair playing along agreeably the way Olsen had programmed him to? “I can never remember the singer’s name though,” Jim mused aloud, hoping against hope. He’d read somewhere once that music memory is actually stronger than other memory, which is why Alzheimers patients will often still know the words to their favorite old songs even when they can’t remember their own name or their family.

 

Blair tilted his head to the side, listening then said, “Ricky Martin, Living La Vida Loca.”

 

“Yeah, that’s it. Living the crazy life, huh?” Jim kept his response matter of fact and calm as if this was just another conversation on yet another trip to Simon’s cabin. “That was definitely you and me back then, Sandburg.”

 

Blair nodded and Jim allowed a miniscule hope to rise to the surface. Maybe those memories weren’t buried so deep after all.

 

Within another half hour they were pulling up in front of the cabin. Jim climbed out and stood for a moment, just inhaling the crisp, clean air. In the distance he could hear the lake burbling over the rocks and behind the cabin, green hills stretched up till it looked like they touched the billowy white clouds in the azure blue sky. By the time he’d walked around to open the door and tell Blair he could get out of the truck, Jim had felt relaxation beginning to seep into his bones for the first time since he’d gotten that call from Simon about Blair. He went around to the back of the truck and unloaded their bags, handing Blair’s over to him to carry. He was glad to see that over the few days since he’d had Blair back with him, his friend’s body was beginning to fill out again, thanks to the regular nutritious meals Jim was making him eat. He was still thin but he no longer looked as if a stiff wind would blow him away. Jim shouldered his pack and picked up his suitcase and led the way to the front door of the cabin. “Looks like we’re in for some nice weather while we’re here,” he said as he unlocked the door then stood back to let Blair precede him through. “Welcome to our home away from home, Chief.”

 

He got Blair busy with unpacking his things in one of the bedrooms while he went out to the truck and got the cooler he’d filled with meat and drinks. There was a big bag of vegetables and fruit as well as some snack type things like chips and peanuts and muesli bars, oatmeal cookies, which had always been Blair’s favorite in the years Jim had known him. Jim intended to stick with the routine that was aimed at getting Blair back to his old self, both physically and mentally. He could add regular exercise too now. Some hikes along the forest trails and even some fishing. Jim dumped the boxes and bags of food in the cabin then went back for the last load of stuff. In this box was, among some of Blair’s university notebooks and photographs, Blair’s dissertation, the thing that had caused Blair to storm out of Jim’s life two years before, the thing that had destroyed their friendship, and now the thing he hoped would restore Blair’s memories completely. He grabbed up Blair’s old fishing spear and took that inside as well. He hoped that seeing it might rekindle some memories of Blair’s previous visits here to the cabin.

 

Blair was in the kitchen when Jim got back. He’d already started putting away the food and Jim walked over and patted him on the back. “Good job,” he said, cheering inwardly that Blair had actually used his own initiative for once. Then again, he’d done that the first morning after Jim had brought him home too, getting up and going out to wash their dinner dishes so Jim warned himself that it might just be that he was used to doing such chores around Olsen’s home without being asked to. But Blair smiled shyly at the praise and kept on with what he was doing as Jim turned on the fridge and made sure all the lights in the cabin were working. He put Blair’s bag into one of the bedrooms on the bed there then put his own stuff away in the other room. The box with Blair’s diss he left on the couch in the living room with the fishing spear resting on top. Blair looked at the spear curiously but quickly went back to his self-appointed duties when he saw Jim watching him. That was okay, Jim thought. They were here for a week at least. There was time.

 

They ate an early dinner and then watched a little TV on the old set Simon kept here. Jim missed the old loquacious Blair even more right now. The air was heavy with silence at times and Jim struggled to fill it. Blair answered when Jim asked him questions, though Jim was careful to steer clear of any questions about Olsen and Blair’s time with him… for now. He kept it general, talking about music Blair used to like, since that had sparked a positive response during the car trip, and TV shows they used to watch together. Blair actually laughed out loud when Jim mentioned Bonanza and Jim couldn’t help but push him a little more.

 

“Do you remember that case we worked, Chief? The one where I had to pretend I was from Texas? You taught me how to speak with a Texan accent.” Jim watched Blair closely for any sign he remembered.

 

Blair shook his head and Jim’s heart sank then just as suddenly Blair nodded.

 

“What do you remember?” Jim prodded. It was like pulling teeth getting information out of this version of Blair.

 

“You got your lilt or your twang,” Blair parroted in such an uncanny copy of that particular phrase he’d used that day that Jim’s eyes actually teared up at just hearing Blair’s “old” voice again.

 

“Yeah,” he replied, swiping hurriedly at his eyes as Blair looked at him with concern in his eyes. “I’m fine,” Jim said quickly in case Blair thought he done something wrong. “I have allergies…” he obfuscated.

 

Blair’s eyes widened and there was a moment of such total recognition on his face that Jim suddenly understood where the saying ‘a lightbulb went on’ had come from.

 

Jim leaned forward and reached out a hand, resting it lightly on Blair’s knee. “What did you remember?” he asked. “Please, Blair, you can tell me.”

 

Blair stood up suddenly and turned as if to run for the cabin door and Jim leapt to his feet, waylaying him with a hand on his shoulder, turning Blair to face him. “Tell me,” Jim demanded more forcefully.

 

“It’s all mixed up,” Blair whispered. “Your senses? You were angry at me.” He put a hand to his forehead as if trying to bring the memories forth more clearly. “I don’t know what it means,” he went on. “I’m sorry, Jim.”

 

“it’s okay, Chief. You were close there, real close. Let’s get some rest. We can talk more tomorrow.” Jim wanted nothing more than to push harder but he’d promised that this time he’d put Blair first. He ushered Blair over to his bedroom and patted him on the shoulder. “It’s okay, buddy. We’ll work it out. Get some sleep, okay?”

 

Blair nodded agreeably and Jim went back out to his own room after checking all the doors and windows were locked. He didn’t fall asleep for a long time though and when he did his dreams were full of the night Blair had left.

~oOo~

Jim was woken by the clinking of crockery out in the kitchen and he sat up in bed with a start. He glanced at his watch. It was almost 7 o’clock and he was amazed he’d slept so late. Obviously he’d been more tired than he’d realized. He extended his hearing out into the other room then smiled as he heard the unmistakable sound of Blair singing the song they’d heard on the radio on the way to the cabin. Just hearing Blair doing something so normal filled Jim with a sense of hope so palpable he could almost taste it. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, and pulled on his jeans and sweater from the day before, pushed his feet into socks and shoes then went out to join Blair.

 

Blair looked around as he entered the kitchen, a tentative smile tilting his lips.

 

“Good morning,” Jim said.

 

“I-I thought I’d make coffee,” Blair said hesitantly. “Is that okay?”

 

“It’s more than okay, Chief,” Jim replied around a lump in his throat. Blair had initiated a conversation! It had been halting and almost apologetic but it was another small step along Blair’s path back to normality and Jim couldn’t help rejoicing at it. He sat down at the table and took the steaming mug Blair held out to him. “I seem to recall you used to make pretty decent scrambled eggs too. You feel like cooking this morning?”

 

Blair nodded. “I used to make them every day for my master—“ He stopped speaking suddenly, his face going so white that for a moment Jim thought he was going to faint.

 

Thinking quickly, Jim rose to his feet and went across to the fridge, speaking as if nothing untoward had been said. “Then I guess you still remember the recipe,” he said as he got the eggs and bacon out and handed them to Blair then sat back down at the table and started drinking his coffee. “Well,” he went on casually, “better get a move on, Chief. I was thinking we might walk down to the river after breakfast and catch some fish.”

 

There was a look of utter gratitude in Blair’s eyes and Jim saw him swallowing hard but then he just nodded and smiled and turned back to the stove and started cooking breakfast.

 

They ate in companionable silence then Jim carried their dishes over to the sink and rinsed them off. “We’ll wash them when we get back,” he said as Blair rose to his feet and made as if to walk across to the sink.

 

Blair followed him into the living room and waited as Jim got the fishing gear together. He shot a confused look at Jim when Jim handed him the fishing spear but disappointingly made no comment about it, just took the tackle box Jim handed him as well and trailed Jim out of the cabin.

 

All the way down to the river Jim had to almost literally bite his tongue to keep from asking Blair if he remembered the spear. At the river’s edge, Jim put down his gear and opened the tackle box and pulled out the little box of lures Simon had given him not long after their last visit here. He picked up the rod he’d brought along for Blair then added a lure and some bait to the hook. He could feel Blair watching him intently. He straightened up and held the rod out to Blair. “So what’s it going to be, Chief? The fishing rod or that spear you used to be so fond of?”

 

Blair seemed frozen in place, one hand out as if to take the rod, the other clenched around the spear. After a few long seconds he bent and placed the tackle box on the ground then lifted the spear and looked at it closely.

 

Jim held his breath for a moment, then, not wanting Blair to feel to feel pressured, he said quietly, “It doesn’t matter if you can’t remember it, Blair. It’ll all come back. I’m just hoping to build a connection here and there, that’s all. It’s all right to say you can’t recall something.”

 

Blair nodded and looked up at Jim, unshed tears shimmering brightly in his eyes. “I want to,” he said shakily. “I don’t like not knowing anything about myself, but I just…” He sighed and wiped the back of his free hand over his eyes. “It’s like seeing a movie of the life of someone who just happens to look like me.”

 

Jim grinned.

 

“Why are you smiling?” Blair asked warily.

 

“Because that’s the most you’ve spoken since we found you.” Jim leaned in and gave Blair a gentle pat on the cheek. “You’re getting there, buddy. How about we take some of the pressure off that genius brain of yours and just do some fishing?”

 

“Okay.” Blair waited till Jim got his rod set up and they’d both cast their lines into the water then asked, “I’m a genius?”

 

Jim couldn’t help it. He laughed. “Oh yeah,” he replied, “you’re a genius, all right.”

 

The rest of the morning passed peaceably. Blair didn’t initiate any more conversations or ask questions but if Jim asked him something he replied more like the old Blair. Not as loquacious certainly and there was still that nervousness and hesitancy in everything he did and said as if he still wasn’t quite sure that Jim really wanted him to respond or as if he still expected to be punished if he did. They caught several decent sized fish that they packed into the cooler Jim had brought along and took them back to the cabin to have for dinner that night.

 

They pretty much just lounged away the rest of the day till dinner time. Jim was happy enough reading a book he’d brought along and he’d given Blair some of his old Anthropology Now magazines Jim had found among Blair’s belongings back at the loft. Blair seemed interested in them and the day passed fairly quickly.

 

Then they ate dinner with their plates on their laps, sitting outside, listening to the nearby river burbling over the rocks on its way down into the valley. Crickets chirped in the cool dusk air and Jim felt himself relax, inch by knotted inch, their peaceful surroundings having the effect this place had always had on him. He glanced over at Blair, who seemed as loose-limbed as Jim felt, his long hair tied back in a ponytail. Jim could still see the bruising on his still too thin wrists poking out from the overlarge shirt he was wearing. Jim reminded himself that it had only been days since Blair had been found and that his physical well-being was going to take time to reassert itself. At least Blair was now being given nourishing, healthy food, and the bruises, while they were still healing, were fading every day. Jim could only hope that Blair’s mental scars would fade along with the physical manifestations of what Olsen had done to him.

 

“I was just thinking I could cut your hair for you tomorrow,” he said when Blair seemingly felt Jim watching him and turned an inquiring gaze in his direction. “It’s fine if you’d rather not,” he added. “I just thought it might be easier for you to manage it yourself if it was a bit shorter.”

 

 

Blair nodded. “Okay,” he replied. “Sure. Thanks, Jim.” He yawned hugely and Jim laughed and stood up, stretching, then bent and gathered his and Blair’s empty plates from where they’d put them on the ground.

 

“This place has that effect on me too,” Jim said, leading the way back into the cabin. “It’s the one place where I sleep like a log. All that good mountain air, I guess.”

 

They made short work of washing the dishes and tidying the kitchen together then Jim led the way into the living room and motioned Blair to sit down in the armchair opposite from him. “I brought some things along that might help to jog your memory a little,” he began hesitantly. “If you’d rather not look at them…” He let his voice trail off and waited for Blair to reply.

 

“Like the fishing spear,” Blair said after a moment.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“But I didn’t really remember anything when I looked at it,” Blair said.

 

“I know but the other thing I have here is more personal and it was a big part of why we were together, and why you left,” Jim said. “Do you want to see it?”

 

“Yes,” Blair replied without a moment’s hesitation. “Do you want me to? You don’t sound too sure.”

 

“It’s just that some of the stuff you remember may not be all that great.” Jim sighed and rubbed a hand over his jaw while he thought about the best way to put things. “You and I didn’t always have a great relationship,” he said finally. “I did some pretty shitty stuff to you because I wasn’t very good at being a friend.”

 

“Was I?” Blair asked.

 

“Were you a good friend?” Jim nodded. “Yeah, you were the best friend I could have had. You helped me through some really tough stuff but I sometimes didn’t see things that way. When we met I was something of a hardass. I’d been having some problems and they’d messed me up pretty badly. I was trying to work a case and not getting anywhere till you came along and taught me a few things about what I was going through.” Jim turned and leaned over so he could dig through the box he’d placed on the floor near the coffee table. He pulled out Blair’s thesis and sat, holding it in his hands. Now that he’d decided to do this, doubt was rearing its head. He’d finally gotten close to getting Blair back. He wasn’t sure he could handle losing him all over again if this all went awry.

 

Blair was eyeing the folder in Jim’s hand with curiosity. “Okay. So what do you want me see?” he asked when Jim didn’t speak.

 

Jim swallowed the lump in his throat. This could have two outcomes; Blair might remember and they could maybe repair the damage Jim had done that night two years before when Blair had left. Or just as easily Blair might remember and want nothing more to do with him. Jim was hoping for the former but in all honesty he wouldn’t blame Blair if it was the latter. He handed Blair the thesis then stood up. “I’m going to leave this for you to look at,” he said. “I need to call Simon anyway, make sure the DA isn’t getting too antsy. I’ll be outside if you have any questions, okay?”

 

Blair took the folder from his hand and wrapped his fingers tightly around the top of it. Jim could see his pulse racing, beating a tattoo against the skin of his throat. He focused his hearing on Blair’s heartbeat. It was fast but not too fast.

 

Jim patted his shoulder. “Relax, Chief. It’s gonna be fine,” he said, injecting a certainty he didn’t even begin to feel into his tone. Then he went out to the kitchen and grabbed his phone and headed outdoors to the picnic table and chairs set up a little way from the cabin door.

 

“Jim, how’s it going?” Simon said the minute he answered his phone. “How’s Sandburg?”

 

“We’re getting there,” Jim replied cautiously, not wanting to give Simon or himself more hope than was currently warranted. “He’s talking more without me prompting him.”

 

“Well, that’s great,” Simon said. “Isn’t it? You don’t sound too thrilled.”

 

“I’m just trying not get my hopes up too much,” Jim replied. “He’s definitely remembering some stuff but I’m hesitant to push too hard.” He sighed. “Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea, bringing him out here by myself. Maybe I should have taken him to a counselor or a psychologist instead—”

 

“Hey, don’t you start doubting what you’re trying to do, Jim,” Simon broke in. “You’re his best friend. There’s no one else knows the kid like you do. He might not have remembered you but there’s no doubting you’re the person he feels safest with. You just keep on doing whatever you’re doing. It must be working if he’s talking more, right?”

 

“Yeah, I guess. The DA’s not getting antsy, is he?” Jim asked.

 

Simon snorted. “He isn’t and if he was I’m more than capable of telling him to put a sock in it. You take whatever time Blair needs, all right?”

 

“Yeah, okay, man, thanks. I’ll call you tomorrow.” Jim thumbed off his phone then stood for a moment or two just letting the serenity seep into his bones.

 

Blair was sitting on the sofa still when Jim went back in, the diss on the floor at his feet. He looked up as Jim entered and shrugged in response to Jim’s raised eyebrows. “Sorry, Jim, it really doesn’t make a lot of sense to me. I mean, I can see I was working with you to help you with problems with your senses but I don’t remember enough of it to really understand how or why I was doing it.” He sighed and rubbed a hand across his eyes then yawned widely. “Sorry,” he apologized with a wan smile.

 

“It’s fine, Blair,” Jim assured him. “This mountain air can really make you tired. Let’s just both get some sleep and we’ll start over in the morning.” He walked across and patted Blair’s shoulder, not wanting him to think he was disappointed in him then waited till Blair was tucked up under the covers in his own room before heading off to bed himself. He was asleep almost the moment his head hit the pillow.

 

He woke up what seemed like only minutes later, his heart pounding, cold sweat lathering his skin. He sat up on the side of the bed, sipped at the bottle of water he’d put on the bedside table, calmed his breathing. He must have had a nightmare even though he actually couldn’t remember dreaming at all. Despite his conscious effort to calm himself, his heart continued to race, his mind churning with the inexplicable feeling that something was terribly wrong. He stood up, pulled on his clothes from the day before and put on shoes and socks. He grimaced as he glanced at his watch. 3 AM. Too early to be up but he had the inescapable feeling he wasn’t going to be going back to bed any time soon. He went out to the kitchen, turned on the coffee pot then walked out into the small hallway where his and Blair’s bedrooms were located. Blair’s door was partly open and Jim felt his heart skip a beat. He pushed the door open and turned on the light, somehow knowing even as he did so what he would find. The covers on Blair’s bed were pushed haphazardly aside, his pillows tossed to the floor. Jim forced himself to calm down, to take notice of details. Blair’s clothes were gone, his track pants tossed at the end of the bed. Jim bent down to check beneath the bed. His shoes were gone too. In some ways that made him feel better. At least Blair wasn’t wandering around outside in the chill air in just track pants and a tshirt. Still, Jim realized, just him wandering off at all was a bad idea. Blair didn’t remember the area. He could easily get lost or take a tumble into the river. Jim ran out of the room, checked the bathroom just in case then headed out to the living room and grabbed a flashlight lantern and his and Blair’s jackets. Then he stepped outside and took a moment to shine the flashlight around and call Blair’s name in case his friend had just come outside for a breath of fresh air. There was no call back from Blair and no sign of him outside the cabin. Jim set off for the river, calling Blair’s name every few minutes till he reached the shoreline.

 

Once there, he stood still, barely daring to breathe as he looked around what he could see of the shoreline. For once he thanked God for his Sentinel senses as his sight was able to compensate for the darkness and he could see no sign of Blair along the bank.

 

Off to his right his ears caught the sound of a twig cracking and he turned in that direction, his hearing ranging out toward the sound, filtering out the night sounds of birds and small animals scurrying through the brush. He homed in on what sounded like someone breathing jerkily, as if they were trying to hold back sobs and he extended his hearing even more trying to narrow down the exact place it was coming from. There was a sudden cacophony of sound as if he was being enveloped in it and then everything faded away…

~oOo~

There was a faint buzzing in his ears and Jim tried to raise a hand to swat the annoyance away. His hand was restrained however, and before he could even think about trying to free it he became aware of the warm sensation of something rubbing soothingly up and down his arm. The buzzing gradually took the form of a voice and Jim concentrated on making out the words.

 

“Come on, Jim, please. I really have no idea what I’m supposed to do here. I hadn’t gotten that far into that dissertation last night when I looked at it. If you don’t wake up soon, I guess I’m gonna have to hogtie you and drag you back to the cabin like a deer.”

 

Jim couldn’t help it. He laughed.

 

“Oh man, thank god.” Blair’s voice was overwhelmingly relieved and Jim turned and grabbed his shoulders and pulled him in for a hug, still laughing.

 

“Why are you laughing?” Blair asked, pushing Jim away.

 

“Because coming out of a zone out and hearing you babbling away like your old self is one of the best things I’ve ever heard,” Jim replied. “Are you okay? I woke up and you were gone. I was worried sick when I couldn’t find you.” He gave Blair a searching Sentinel once over. There were a few scratches on Blair’s face but other than that he seemed unharmed.

 

“I’m sorry.” Blair flushed and swallowed hard. “I had this crazy dream and it freaked me out. I guess I panicked. I remember waking up and getting out of bed, feeling like I was being chased by this spotted jaguar. Next thing I knew I was out here standing at the edge of the river. I heard the jaguar growl and I headed for the woods. It was so real, man. Then I heard you calling for me and I just knew I was safer with you than out there in the woods on my own with that jaguar so I came back to the lakeshore and found you standing here, looking like you’d been turned to stone or something.”

 

Jim winced as Blair spoke. “There’s a reason for that nightmare,” he said. “I’ll tell you about it when we get back to the cabin.” He turned and ushered Blair ahead of him up the track, draping Blair’s jacket over his shoulders as they walked. “How did you know what to do?” he asked curiously. “To bring me out of the zone out.”

 

“I didn’t,” Blair said, carefully following the beam of the flashlight Jim shone ahead of them along the path. “Well, I don’t think I did. I just thought that maybe it had to do with your senses and I had a feeling that if I could get you to feel me touching your arm and hearing my voice you might wake up.”

 

“You were right,” Jim said. “Maybe being a guide to a sentinel is as much about innate instinct as it is about learning how to be one. Incacha did pass the way of the shaman onto you and I guess he wouldn’t do that for just anyone who’d read few how to articles on being a guide.”

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Blair said. “But you’re going to explain it all to me, right?”

 

Jim reached a hand forward and clasped Blair’s shoulder firmly, gave it a little jiggle. “Right,” he said.

 

It was another half hour before they were settled back in the living room in the cabin, hot coffee steaming in mugs on the coffee table between them. Jim had insisted on cleaning the scrapes on Blair’s face and hands, caused by Blair’s headlong, panicked run through the trees after his nightmare.

 

“It wasn’t really a nightmare,” Jim began. “What you saw in your dream that made you take off.”

 

“Felt like one to me,” Blair said, shuddering a little in recollection.

 

“It was more of a memory. A memory of something that happened about six months before you left.” Jim sighed, picked up his coffee and sipped at it while he gathered his thoughts. Nothing less than total honesty would do now. He knew that. If telling the truth now meant Blair left him again then he’d let the chips fall where they may. It was refusing to be honest with himself that had caused Blair to leave the first time. He knew that now. “Okay, I’ll make this as short as I can but it’s still going to need you to suspend your disbelief a little,” Jim said.

 

Blair nodded, sipping at his own coffee. He put it down on the table, the slight rattle as the mug landed making Jim aware that Blair was still shaking. He looked down at his own hands, noticed the tightness of his clenched hands resting on his knees, blew out a breath and focused on consciously relaxing. “All right. It started with us stumbling across the hold up of a grocery store downtown. I shot the guy, killed him before he was able to kill his hostage but he also managed to shoot me—“ Jim held up a hand as Blair’s eyes went wide with horror. “It was just a flesh wound, nothing too serious. It was what I saw and heard in that store that started everything off.”

 

Blair was watching him intently so Jim kept going.

 

“I saw a spotted jaguar in the back room of the store. It wasn’t real. It was more of a vision, a representation of another Sentinel in the vicinity.”

 

“Like a spirit animal,” Blair put in, shrugging when Jim looked at him inquiringly. “Don’t ask me how I know that. I just do.”

 

“Yeah, it was her spirit animal. Mine’s a black jaguar, yours is a wolf.”

 

“A wolf? I’ve got one too?” Blair sounded skeptical but Jim decided if he had to keep stopping to answer Blair’s questions they’d be here for a week so he said, “Hold the questions till the end, okay, Chief? Let me lay it out for you in a fairly chronological order first.”

 

“Sure. Sorry.”

 

Jim waved away his apology then picked up his coffee and drained the mug while he got his train of thought back. “Okay, I was on sick leave and apparently I was a little grumpy so you went in to do some stuff at the PD and while you were there you happened to run into a woman who appeared to be having the same symptoms I was when you met me. Her name was-“

 

“Alex… Alex Barnes,” Blair murmured. He looked down at his hands twisted again into tight fists on his knees then raised stricken eyes to Jim’s. “I came home, tried to tell you about her but you blew me off. I kept working with her, decided not to tell you about each other and then we found out she was a criminal. She broke into the university and stole a canister of nerve gas, was going to sell it to the highest bidder.”

 

“You remember?” Jim asked, his voice husky as the words seemed to dry up in his throat. That incident had been the beginning of the end for him and Blair. Once Alex had put that plan of hers into action it had been like a runaway train with a full head of steam, stampeding over anyone in its path, almost killing Blair and destroying Jim and Blair’s shakily rebuilt friendship.

 

Blair nodded. “Yeah, she drowned me. I guess getting murdered is something you don’t forget for long.” He shuddered. “Even if I did come back from the dead.” He looked searchingly at Jim. “You blamed yourself for what happened, didn’t you?”

 

“Because I kicked you out of the loft, left you vulnerable to her.”

 

“But you brought me back. You used our spirit animals.”

 

“Yeah,” Jim said softly, his voice barely above a whisper, guilt twisting inside him again, “and then a few months later I turned on you again, accused you of selling my story, my life to a publisher for a chance at the brass ring.”

 

“You thought I’d betrayed you,” Blair replied, his own voice equally quiet. “You’ve had plenty of reasons not to trust people over your lifetime. Your dad, your brother, your commanding officer in Peru…”

 

“Maybe,” Jim said bitterly, “but then I found a true friend that I should have known I could trust and instead I tarred you with the same brush and threw you out of my life.”

 

“That last night I was at the loft, we argued about me not wanting to join the police force, didn’t we?” Blair asked. “I remember some of it now. You were really angry but so was I and I stormed out to cool off, planned on coming back and trying to patch things up with you…”

 

“I got it in my head that you turning down the offer of becoming my official partner just proved that it was all about the Sentinel thing for you. That once I had my senses mostly under my control, once you knew you couldn’t use everything that had happened for your thesis or for a book deal that you wanted to just cut and run, leave it all behind, go on and find something else that piqued your interest.”

 

“I wouldn’t have, you know,” Blair replied. “I wanted to keep working with you. I think I just knew I couldn’t do it as a cop.”

 

“But I refused to let you tell me that,” Jim said. “And so you left and sometime after that you ran into Olsen.” He let out a shaky breath. “I left you vulnerable to Alex and she killed you and then once I had you back, I did it again. Left you vulnerable to that bottom feeding opportunist, Olsen, and he almost killed you too.”

 

“Oh man, Jim, I’m a big boy. What happened with Olsen wasn’t your fault any more than what happened with Alex was. It was mine. I was so angry with you that I wasn’t thinking clearly and I walked straight into Olsen’s trap. He’d obviously seen me on the news, knew I’d worked with you and he stopped me in the street that night, said he had sensory problems, wanted to know if I could help. You’d made it pretty clear you didn’t need me as a guide anymore and I did exactly the same thing I’d done with Alex. Jumped in with both feet at the mere idea of finding another Sentinel, of still being useful to someone.”

 

“But he wasn’t a Sentinel?” Jim asked though he was pretty sure of the answer.

 

“No. A lot of what happened in those first months or years with him are still pretty jumbled and I’m not sure how much is real and how much my mind’s contrived to fill in the blanks. He kept me drugged for a long time, used punishment along with the drugs and sensory deprivation to make me docile enough that he could convince me there was nothing left in the world outside his door for me anymore.”

 

“Did he rape you?” Jim asked softly.

 

Blair flushed. “I tried to stop him but it only made him hurt me more so eventually I just realized he was right, that no one was looking for me, that there wasn’t anything left for me out there and that what was happening was my lot in life.” He shrugged. “Maybe I thought it was no more than I deserved for running out on you.”

 

“So what happened the night he was killed? Do you remember that?”

 

“You mean the night I killed him,” Blair corrected flatly. “Bits and pieces. I remember him bringing the boy in and the kid was screaming. Olsen wanted to tie him up so he could drug him. I guess he was tired of me, wanted someone younger, more of a challenge once he’d beaten me down to a mere cypher. He told me to get the knife from the kitchen. He was going to threaten the boy with it, make him quiet down but something snapped when I saw how scared that kid was. Memories flooded in. They were muddled up and not really clear but I recognized something in the boy.”

 

“He was you when Olsen first brought you there?” Jim suggested and Blair nodded. “Yeah but it wasn’t too late for him yet. He still had people looking for him.”

 

“So did you,” Jim said.

 

“But I didn’t know that,” Blair replied with a small smile. “I just knew that I had to make sure Daniel got back to whoever still cared about him.”

 

“I hate to say I’m glad about someone being killed but I can’t be sorry about what you did,” Jim said. “It was because of what you did that meant both Daniel and you both got to go home.” He stood up and stretched, glanced at his watch. “You about ready to go home properly. There’s a friend of mine, a therapist, who I think could really help you now you’ve managed to breach that wall in your memory. You still willing to talk to the DA?”

 

Blair nodded and stood up. “I’m ready.” He walked across and stood in front of Jim then reached out and hugged Jim tightly. “Thank you,” he said through a voice that sounded tight with unshed tears, “for not giving up on me and for bringing me home.”

 

Jim swallowed down his own tears. “Anytime, Chief,” he said, but let’s make a pact, hey?” He held Blair away from him and fixed him with a steady gaze. “No more trust issues between us. Next time it sounds like I’m going there you have my permission to knock some sense into me, okay?”

 

“Yeah, okay, Jim, okay. Let’s go home, man. I’ve got a whole bunch of old friends to get to know again and a new life just beginning.”

 

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Mention of rape but no description.


End file.
